


Blackbird

by SVU_BAU_CSI



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: AU, Family Secrets, Gen, Hiding, Mom!Emily, Original Character(s), Papa Rossi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SVU_BAU_CSI/pseuds/SVU_BAU_CSI
Summary: Elaine, 15, is thrown for a loop one night when the demons her family has been hiding from finally catch up. Because of this she and her brother are sent to live at the Mansion of Birds owned by David Rossi. Up until this point, it was only a place in the stories her mother told, but now she must adjust to its unique characters while awaiting her mother's return.
Relationships: David Rossi/Erin Strauss
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Background: This story is AU and honestly this first chapter doesn't actually serve a storyline purpose other than being an interesting opening. If you are not into OC focused stories this one is not for you. The story does heavily feature the team, but the core plot centers around an OC character.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds and this story is for entertainment purposes only.

_Elaine's POV_

A wise man in my life once said, "Scars remind us of our past. They don't have to dictate where we are going."

I met that man at a very pivotal point in my life. Everything I had known and everyone I knew was being ripped away. The only thing I had left was my little brother, and it was my job to keep him safe from all the demons in the world. The wise man made sure we all knew that scars were not only physical and that the quote was not solely about scars. He said memories worked just about the same. When I look back on the memories, as bad as the situation was, I can't help but smile. The situation may have been bad, but I met the most amazing people because of it: my family.

They say smell holds high value in the form of memories. I believe that's true. Everyone member of my family had their own distinct air around them, and I found comfort in every single one.

The watcher who spent his nights camped at the edge of the forest always seemed to smell like the forest had coughed him up there. Though, when he would first arrive back home, before spending nights at his watch, he was always overpowered by a cologne that can only be described to smell like a chemically created saltwater ocean. I always preferred the earthy smell of the forest. It made me feel safe. Whenever I walk through the woods, I find myself wrapped up in the memories of that watchman's tower. It is as if I'm there again listening to the rain pour down over the tin roof struggling to stay awake, but succumbing to my tiredness because I know he will protect me. I miss all those nights watching the tranquil trees and listening to the call of the crickets and croaks of the rain frogs.

The lawyer who rarely smiled had a smell that could only be described as clean. It was very fitting. His suits always smelled like clean linen and were freshly pressed. The small hint of aftershave only added to the freshness. He came and went, but we all still loved him. I find doing laundry becomes less of a chore as I remember back. He took the longest to warm up too, but he taught me some of the most important life lessons around the fireplace on those quiet nights. And those rarities where he smiled always meant the most amazing thing was happening.

The teacher who taught me more than I ever would have learned in a classroom always smelled like coffee and old books. He was always up before me, pouring sugar into his mug. We must have gone through a bag of sugar a week. I'm pretty sure he ran solely on coffee. I recently found myself in a used bookstore with a cafe inside and half expected to find him behind me, flipping through a book at the speed of light. I'll never forget during rainy weekends when we couldn't go outside. We would all circle around him, ready for a lesson on whatever we asked or old poems being read from big books in his lap. Those days spent listening to him teach never seemed like work, and I actually found myself enjoying them.

The doctor who could fix almost anything, and not just physically, smelled like lilacs. I never figured out if it was a perfume, shampoo, or just apart of her. I use to find it weird that this woman with so many sharp edges smelled like that of a delicate flower. I do know, however, that she is the reason lilacs bloom in my front yard. I have her to thank for many things. Without her, the good memories may not have so easily covered up all the bad. She was always a good ear to talk to. She reminded me of my mother with her love of language and was a comfort I severely needed at the time.

The fairy godmother who wore her heart on her sleeve carried around an air of the tropics with the barely-there scent of hair spray. She made those tough days much more bearable and that transition period doable. She always could make us laugh as hot tears rolled down our faces. We'd put on some cheesy rom-com and stuff our faces with ice cream until the hurt went away. Now when I find that things are too much, I'll pop in one of those movies, fix myself a bowl of ice cream, and camp out on my couch until the tears are from laughing. She took everyone in, no questions asked, with open arms, and it's something I could never thank her enough for.

The runner with an exterior of titanium and heart of gold who became my confidant was the perfect cocktail of apples and cinnamon. I was taken by surprise the first time I found her baking at midnight, but soon it became our thing. Cinnamon was almost always included. The apple was from her shampoo that I often found myself using on those long weeks she was away. To this day, I still find myself in the mood to bake an apple pie in the middle of the night, with music drifting in the background.

The bookkeeper who spent her days teaching us soccer had two distinct smells. One of grass and dirt after a few hours of practice and one of lemon after a morning of making lemon bars or lemonade for afterward. Nothing was better than playing soccer till everything hurt than sitting around the table with our lemon treats and giggling up a storm about the game. She taught me how to remain organized amongst chaos. A skill that I still use today. She also taught me that I don't like soccer, but I got out there and played with them because my family liked soccer. And I loved my family.

My two best friends, one reminded me of a hot summer day and the other like spring. The summer spent half of her time swimming laps in the pool, so much that at the smell of chlorine, I can just see her wide grin in front of me as she wraps a towel around her waist. A few seconds later, she'd jump in the shower and come out, having hidden the chlorine behind coconut. The spring always smelled like a melody of flowers and cucumber. I never questioned it. What I do know is that summer and spring needed each other and took me in with open arms; well, not exactly open. It took a little trust-building. Though, they were exactly what I needed. And I would like to believe they needed me too.

My brother, the person I clung to when things went bad, always smelled like strawberries. I was actually sad when he outgrew his childhood choice of strawberry-scented shampoo. That smell could always make a bad day happy and was like my own version of a security blanket. As long as I had my brother, I knew things were not the worse they could be. It is because of this I use the same scent, the same brand on my own kids.

My sister always smelled like blackberries and sage tea. Oh, how I missed it when she was gone. We weren't as close as my brother and I to start, but we soon became best friends. She was my sun, someone I looked up to and wanted to be just like. Along with my midnight apple pies, I also make a mean blackberry cobbler. When I do, I'll pick up the phone, and no matter how late it is she's there. She's there to remind me that it was all real and that my current life is not just a dream.

My grandmother was someone that took me a long while to figure out with her scent of vanilla and fancy perfumes. Her hugs could be cold and ridged, but sometimes they were soft and warm. Her words could be ice and barking, but sometimes they were smooth and timid. You had to work to earn her trust, and a part of me found it infuriating, but another respected it. When I finally received those soft and warm hugs, they became my comfort. A comfort I'm always drawn back to as I walk by a perfume aisle.

My grandfather was gruff but loving with his air of cigars and fancy cologne. He taught me the rules of life, and how to win at poker. I'd been playing since I could hold the cards, but he taught me to play like a gentleman so they'd never see it coming. I miss those days of late-night poker or just sitting in front of the fireplace as he whispered stories and songs in his family's home tongue. The same language he used as we danced around the kitchen, filling the house with the delightful smells of dinner. I never knew I'd meet someone as wise as him, but boy was I grateful.

My mother, the most important person in my life, smelled like roses. I was undoubtedly a mama's girl, mostly because I didn't share her for the first 13 years of my life. It was just me and her in our own little bubble. She had work of course, but at the end of the day, it was just the two of us. Looking back, I didn't realize there were pieces of the puzzle missing and things I didn't see. I was just a kid who loved having my mother to myself, but I can't help but wonder what it would have been like to grow up with the complete puzzle.

My life was anything but normal, typical, or any other word that means of what you would expect. It was filled with ups and downs, highs and lows, goods and bads, scars and memories. But all the positives outweighed the negatives in my opinion, and the negative didn't dictate where I was going. My family taught me who I was and was there when I needed them the most. That same wise man once told me, "Life is one hell of a thing to happen to a person." Because of my family, I overcame everything it had to throw at me.


	2. 1 - The Goodbye

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_   
_Take these broken wings_   
_and learn to fly._   
_All your life, you were only waiting_   
_for this moment to arise_

**-The Beatle's** **_Blackbird_ **

:::::::

_Elaine's POV_

I remember the night clearly. My brother and I were fast asleep in our room that we shared in the one-bedroom apartment. When you're on the run, your resources are low, and you get what you get. Declan and I shared the one room, and Mom took the couch. We were awoken that night by yelling and crashing from the living room. I got out of bed quickly, Declan clinging to me as I tiptoed to the closet. "You stay here," I whispered, gently pushing him in.

I could see the protest in his eyes, but the sound of another crash from the living room had him curling up into a tiny ball in the corner. I quietly shut the closet door and went over to the nightstand. Opening the cabinet underneath revealed a safe that I made quick work of the code. Inside laid various important documents with a handgun sitting on top. Mom had been training me on what to do in this situation for a while. Now that it was happening, I was terrified.

My hands were shaking as I picked up the gun and undid the safety. I crept to the door and opened it just enough to see a little. I counted three men. One of the men was keeping watch at the front door. Another of the men was walking the perimeter of the room. The third man was yelling at my mother in the middle of the room. The yelling was in French, and despite knowing the language my brain was too frazzled to translate for me. I inched the door open a little more, but it was too much. The man walking the perimeter saw and started walking to the door with his own gun at the ready. Everything was moving too quickly, so I did the only thing I could think of and fired just as he did the same.

The first thing I realized was that there was now a man bleeding out on the floor in front of me. Mom had never liked the beige carpet that much, and now it was marred with a pool of blood. The second thing I registered was a burning in my arm, but I didn't have long to process it. Because the third thing my brain registered was that everyone was now looking in my direction, and the men didn't look too happy. The fourth, and final thing, my brain cataloged was a little hand tugging at my shirt. So much for staying in the closet.

The next few things seemed to happen in slow motion while also being all at the same time. The man at the door charged to us and grabbed Declan before I could react. Declan's screaming is what cleared the fog as I acted on pure instinct and swung around clocking the man in the temple with the butt of the gun. I then grabbed Declan into my arms, who started sobbing into my shirt. There was a crash followed by a thud behind us and I turned around to see the third man on the ground next to a broken vase.

Mom made her way to us with a smile that anyone but a scarred five year old would have known was fake. She wrapped her hands around my shaking ones. "Give me the gun, sweetie, and take your brother into the bathroom. Go ahead and get the first aid kit from the cabinet."

I blinked a few times as my brain caught up, then did as she told me. Declan was still crying, and the burning in my arm was intensifying. The moment I looked into the bathroom I gasped, well that explained the pain. My pajama sleeve had blood where a butterfly design had once been. It wasn't a concerning amount, but more blood then should have been coming out of my arm. There was a gunshot sound from the bedroom, causing me to jump despite having expected it. Declan's sobs got louder, and looking into his eyes I saw pure terror. "It's going to be okay," I said, trying to convince myself too. 

I used my good arm to open the cabinet and pull the first aid kit down. There was another shot, and another jump, before Mom entered the bathroom. "Are you okay?"

"It's just a graze," I told her. I mean that's all it was in my mind. Anything worse would have caused a lot of problems and slowed us down from what I was assuming another run for it.

Mom gave a nod and bit her lip as she took the first aid kit from me and turned her attention to Declan. "Dec, I need you to take that towel and hold it to your sister's arm as tight as you can."

Even as young and as scarred as he was, he knew now was not the time to question an order. So he nodded between tears as he picked up the towel and held it to my arm. I could tell he was trying not to hurt me as his little hands trembled. "It's okay, buddy, you can't hurt me." That seemed to do the trick as he tightened his grip, and I bit back a grimace. "Good job, bud."

I then used my good arm to place him on my hip. We then followed Mom out of the bathroom as she told Declan to close his eyes. We stepped over the three dead men, and I briefly felt bad for the poor landlord. He was not going to have a fun morning. Though it wasn't the best neighborhood, so it probably wasn't the first time he had seen something of the sort.

I always knew something like this could happen, especially since Mom had taken Declan in. Now that it was happening, everything Mom had said to do in this situation was swirling around my head at alarming speeds. Declan and I climbed into the back seat of the car as Mom put it into drive. "Once we get far enough out of town, we can look at your arm. If you start to feel worse let me know."

"I'm fine," I said, well as fine as one could be in this situation at least.

:::::::

The car ride was silent other than Declan's soft hiccups as he continued to cry but no longer had any tears to shed. He still kept his little hands on my arm as I whispered lullabies. When we were outside of the city lights, Mom pulled over and climbed into the back seat with us. "You can let go, Dec."

"You did a good job, buddy," I praised, running my right hand through his curly hair. "You are the bravest bluebird."

He gave a tiny nod as he sunk into the seat next to me as Mom moved to work on my arm.

I winced a little when she rolled up my sleeve and started cleaning my arm. "You were right it's a graze. It's deep, and it's going to need a few stitches, though." She started pulling out what she would need to do the stitches. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I replied, giving her a nonnegotiable look and continued before she could argue. "What happens now that they've found us?"

Mom talked as she stitched up my arm, which was good because it kept my mind off the pain, well, some of it anyway. "Remember me telling you about the safest place I know?" I nodded. Mom had told us stories of this place for as long as I could remember. I knew she had stayed there as a teenager and deemed it the safest place she knew. She had never given much detail about her time there, but I knew enough about it in case of emergencies like this. "I'm taking you guys there."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What about you?"

"I'll be back, but there are a few loose ends I have to tie up. We can't hide forever as we learned tonight."

That wasn't good. Those words were never good when Mom used them. Declan looked up at Mom. He didn't like those words either. "You're leaving?"

"Just for a bit, bud, but you're going to have so much fun. Did you know it's called the Mansion of Birds? You're my bravest bluebird, so you'll fit right in," Mom comforted momentarily, leaving my arm to run a hand through Declan's hair.

Mom loved birds. I realized that maybe this place had something to do with it. We all had bird associated nicknames. Declan was bluebird, I was dove, and Mom was blackbird. I heard Mom call out for a hummingbird once in her sleep, but I didn't have the heart to ask her about it.

"It's our next adventure," I told him. He was still naive enough that every scary thing could be made a little less scary by proposing it as an adventure. I missed that innocent belief in myself.

As Mom finished with my arm, she started giving me instructions for what to do at the Mansion of Birds. "When you get there, there will be a guard's shack at the gate. If there is someone there, identify yourself as a friend and tell them The Blackbird sent you. Inform them you need to talk to Mr. Rossi. Tell Mr. Rossi you need protection. Do not give him your last name, or mine, or the people you need protection from. It is much safer that way. If no one is in the guard shack, you will have to wait it out till morning. The window in the guard shack can be opened with a little fiddling, and it's big enough to climb through. You'll at least have shelter until Mr. Rossi takes his morning perimeter walk. While you're at the Mansion of Birds, I need you to be on your best behavior and don't worry about me. I'll be okay. Listen to everything Mr. Rossi says because he knows what he's talking about."

"How long?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"I don't know my Dove."

:::::::

The rest of the ride was quiet. Declan had stopped crying and instead sat much too still for a five-year-old. Mom had stitched me up and gave me something for the pain. It was now just a dull ache numbed by my worry over Declan. Fittingly it started raining as Mom once again pulled over. Mom pulled her black leather jacket off and handed it to me. "Put this on."

I took my time, relishing those last few moments in the car. Mom also handed me a blanket from the passenger seat to use to cover Declan up as we trekked through the woods. "It's just a straight path right?" Mom nodded.

The moment we got out of the car the cold went straight to my bones along with the sinking worry over everything that was about to happen. "This is it," Mom said.

I allowed myself to be pulled into a hug. "I love you, Mom."

Mom kissed my forehead. "I love you too, Dove." She then kissed Declan's forehead. "I love you, my bravest bluebird."

"I love you, Mommy," Declan whispered.

I knew if we didn't leave then, we never would. With one last look, we turned to the forest and started our walk to our new life for an unidentified amount of time.


End file.
